<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Dream of Me by AMidnightDreary</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280585">Dream of Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightDreary/pseuds/AMidnightDreary'>AMidnightDreary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Bitterness, Distrust, Frenemies with Benefits, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nobody Gets a Hug, Post-Break Up, Rough Sex, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhappy Ending, Unspecified Setting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:40:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightDreary/pseuds/AMidnightDreary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not nice. It could be - it was, long ago -, but it’s not, because nice is not something they do. Not anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dream of Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks Sesil for reading and helping with tags, you are the BESTEST person. </p>
<p>And I'm sorry <strike>not sorry</strike> for the pain.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I hear the wicked get no rest</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But when you do, I hope you dream of me</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>- I’m Not Mad, Halsey</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>It’s not nice.</span> <span>It could be - it </span><em><span>was,</span></em><span> long ago -, but it’s not, because nice is not something they do. Not anymore. Instead, it’s fast and mean and frantic. Later in the shower, Tony will find that the bruises on his hips have the form of Loki’s fingers. He will find scratch marks on his back and the imprint of Loki’s teeth on his shoulder, his stomach, his thighs, and god - this is a secret, but he will </span><em><span>treasure</span></em><span> them, and he will be ashamed because of it. But the marks are the only thing he is allowed to keep these days. At least for a while. Until they fade.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t make it to a bed. (They never do.) Shit, they don’t even make it out of their clothes. The last time, Tony remembers, he was still half in his suit, and later he found the places where Loki </span>
  <em>
    <span>tore</span>
  </em>
  <span> the metal out of the way, too desperate and impatient to wait. (Tony couldn’t fix the parts of that suit. He had to throw them away.) Now he’s in his undersuit, shirt torn and pants pulled down to his knees. Loki teleported them to the penthouse - </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s always the penthouse </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and now he’s pushing Tony up against the bar, the grip of his hands too tight on Tony’s hips, under his shirt. His breath wam on Tony’s neck, teeth already scraping his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not nice. No, it hurts when Loki enters him, it hurts when he pulls out and pushes back in, fast and rough, wasting no time. It doesn’t hurt as much as it could, what with Loki still taking at least a few seconds to lube him up, every time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Every time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> (Sometimes Tony thinks that maybe they don’t want to hurt each other, after all.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not nice and it hurts, but that doesn’t mean it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It doesn’t mean that Tony isn’t enjoying himself, because - yeah, he’s going to hell for this - he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. Still loves it, although he knows that he shouldn’t, that they shouldn’t. But fuck that, he’s not thinking about that right now; he’s thinking about how much he missed Loki’s touch, his hands, his teeth, his voice. Everything. Tony’s thinking about how good it feels, being fucked against the bar as if they are back where they started. Back when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other because every touch was the most perfect thing, back when it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They took their time back then. Joking and laughing their way into bed, undressing each other slowly, spending so much time just kissing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This doesn’t last long. Tony’s hand is on his own cock within what, a minute? And Loki is already growling into his ear, his thrusts are becoming frantic, and all too soon it’s over. Loki comes inside of him and Tony follows, and then the warmth of Loki’s hands and mouth is gone, all closeness, that goddamn caricature of </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimacy,</span>
  </em>
  <span> disappearing as if it was never there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony wipes his hand on his shirt, pulls his pants back up. He keeps his arms on the bar and rubs his eyes, runs a hand through his hair. The aftertaste is always bitter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want a drink?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Loki says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony doesn’t look at him while he walks around the bar, doesn’t lift his gaze even when he’s sliding the glass over the bar until it’s right in front of Loki, who has taken place on one of the stools.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not surprised,” Tony says, raising his glass to his lips. “I’m not. Bit annoyed, though. That we always end up here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Loki says again. He is trailing his thumb over the rim of the glass. Tony knows that Loki won’t take a single sip. He never does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony makes himself look at him. As always when he looks at Loki, the sight tugs at something in Tony’s chest. It’s because of the shadows under Loki’s eyes, the hard, downward pointing line of his mouth. He hasn’t seen Loki smile in months. The smirks and laughs during battles are nothing compared to what Tony remembers from when they were together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> together, not - not whatever this is. It feels like being unable to let go of something that’s already dead and cold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you ever wonder about - I don’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki looks at him. “About?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony forces himself to hold Loki’s gaze. “Where we were. What we had. If we could... go back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki looks away. He stays quiet for a small eternity. The pain in his eyes is familiar. “Constantly,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, Tony has to laugh. Shit, they’re pathetic. Here they are, two failed existences, two lonely, tired, </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken</span>
  </em>
  <span> men, thinking about something they had and can’t get back. Tony remembers every detail, remembers what falling in love with Loki </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt like,</span>
  </em>
  <span> what </span>
  <em>
    <span>being </span>
  </em>
  <span>in love with him did to him, to them both. They were happy, Tony supposes, before them being on different sides got in the way. Before they started arguing and mistrusting each other. They ruined it themselves, and they still have to deal with the consequences.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oddly enough, Tony doesn’t know what falling </span>
  <em>
    <span>out of</span>
  </em>
  <span> love with Loki feels like, because he never did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could we try, you think?” he asks, flashing Loki a crooked grin before he takes another sip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Loki says. He doesn’t look at Tony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Second chances. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bullshit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tony thinks; they should be over it by now. They should accept that it didn’t work, that it will never work, and get on with their lives. But Tony can’t keep himself from thinking, wondering, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hoping.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before he’s even fully awake, he’s already thinking about whether Loki is thinking about him or not, about what Loki is doing, saying, planning, and that every morning. God, every fucking minute of every fucking day. Loki is as difficult to get rid of as Tony’s own shadow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should go,” Loki says, and stands up. He leaves the full glass where it is. His smile is cold, the look in his eyes still pained. “Until next time, Stark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony raises his glass for a toast, and then he is alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Next time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’re not even denying it anymore, he notes, that there will be a next time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t wait.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>